


In Memorium

by FrostOverlord



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Memories, Recovered Memories, The budding Jackrabbit isn't at ALL as subtle as I first thought it was, but feel free to interpret it otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostOverlord/pseuds/FrostOverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of helping out around the pole, Aster gets ready to tuck in for some rest.</p>
<p>He doesn't expect to having his first real heart-to-heart with Jack Frost on the way, but sometimes that's how things work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Memorium

Aster trudged wearily towards the guest rooms of the pole, having spent the day helping North prepare for his own holiday. It wasn’t something he’d normally do, but with the failure of the previous Easter resting on their shoulders, the guardians had to make sure Christmas went off without a hitch. Everyone had been present off and on over the months of October and November, with Aster being the most frequent visitor. It wasn’t like he had much to do during his off-season once the egg plants had been set to rights, and he found that helping to paint the toys was a rather enjoyable distraction from his thoughts. Next to Aster it was actually Jack who visited the most, his duties- and wasn’t it a surprise when Jack explained what all he did to the other guardians. Aster had been expecting him to talk about playing in the snow, and instead had gotten a cheerful lecture on weather systems among other things- naturally taking him over the pole rather frequently.

Speaking of Jack- one of Aster’s ears twitched, zoning in on a soft noise coming from down the hall. It sounded like it was coming from the room North had given to Jack, just across the hall from the room assigned to Aster. As the pooka stepped closer, the sound became clearer. It sounded like Jack was singing. The wordless song wasn’t one Aster had heard before, and sounded like some form of child’s lullaby.

Jack’s singing voice as he began to quietly sound out lyrics, however, was in no way childish. A deeper-than-average tenor sound reminiscent of bells that actually managed to send a shiver down Aster’s form. Aster smiled and continued forward, maybe he could spare some time to talk with Jack before he hit the hay. They hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak since he’d become a guardian, and he owed the kid more than a few apologies.

As Aster approached the mostly closed door to Jack’s room, he found himself hesitating. Something about Jack’s tone, even as he switched back to humming, bothered him. There wasn’t a shred of Jack’s usual undertone of laughter gracing the song, there wasn’t an ounce of cheer. Something in his voice invoked a melancholy feeling, making the song sound like some form of elegy. Rather than knocking, Aster leaned forward, slowly pushing the door open to look inside. Jack was sitting in a chair, facing partially away from the door and face illuminated by a single lamp. In one hand he held a small piece of wood, and in the other a carving knife. As Aster watched Jack set the piece of wood- a statue, on closer inspection- on a nearby table alongside a few other carvings, and reached over the side of the chair opposite the door to retrieve a new block. His voice rang out softly as he began to whittle away at the new piece of wood, too quiet even for the ears of a pooka to pick out any actual words.

Aster found himself rooted in the doorway, Jack’s voice so full of sorrow and longing that he wasn’t sure how to react. Only once before had he encountered Jack in such a state, and it had taken fifty years and the perfect vision of hindsight before he’d even noticed how false the boy’s mischievous smile and mocking words had been back then. What was he supposed to do, with the kind of past they had? They hadn’t had the chance yet to really talk out their differences, let alone become friends. Why would Jack want to speak with someone he’d done nothing but fight with when he was in such a state?

And yet...

Jack’s eyes were distant, looking at the block of wood in his hands but not seeing it, as though he were lost in some memory. It was something Aster was familiar with, getting lost in the past and reliving experiences you’d never have again. It was a nice while it was happening, sure, but then the memory would come to an end and leave heartache in its wake. It was an overall painful thing, and Aster couldn’t count the number of times he wished someone had been there to pull _him_ back into reality.

To that end, Aster knocked, and when Jack didn’t register the sound, he called out his name. It took a few tries before Jack suddenly registered his presence and jumped in surprise, dropping the objects in his hands. The young man leveled a glare at the pooka in the doorway, though his eyes held a suspicious shine about them.

“Sorry about that, mate,” Aster apologized, stepping fully into the room, “didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jack just glared at him and reached down to pick up his knife and the block of wood. Items retrieved, Jack returned his glare to Aster. “What do you want, Bunny?” he asked, clearly not amused by the pooka’s presence.

Aster shrugged, leaning against the wall, “Was about to go to sleep when I heard your voice. We haven’t really spoken with each other much since the meeting just after Easter, and I figured it might be nice to talk for a bit.” Aster frowned a bit at Jack’s suspicious glare, but his eyes conveyed the sincerity of his words. Jack huffed and went back to his carving, occasionally glancing up at Aster to see if he had moved. Aster watched the expert movements of Jack’s knife as he stripped long flakes off the wooden block, thinking about what to say. He’d said he wanted to talk, but what about? There were so many things to say, but nothing seemed proper at the moment, not with Jack as he was.

A few minutes later Aster had just about decided on what to say, just in time for Jack to grow annoyed. “You gonna do anything besides stare at me, cottontail?”

Aster huffed and waved a paw in front of his face as if batting the question aside, “Thinking, is all.”

“Thinking?”

“Your singing voice, it’s not half bad.”

Jack gave Aster a confused look, clearly taken aback by the sudden compliment. Maybe just taken aback by receiving a compliment at all. “Uh… thanks, I guess.”

Aster nodded, humming in acknowledgement, before speaking again, “So, what is it that you’re working on there, Jack?” he asked.

Jack’s confused look remained a moment longer at the question before blinking and looking down at his hands. “Oh,” came the response, “a carving, I guess.”

Aster snorted in amusement and stepped closer to look at the carvings off to Jack’s side, “You guess?” He asked, indicating the wooden statuettes on the table next to the boy. Jack looked over, eyes remaining downcast, and nodded.

“Didn’t realize I was doing it,” he answered quietly, clearly embarrassed by the fact. Aster understood, though. When the mind was traipsing down memory lane, the body tended to find something to do. Aster himself had an entire wall of paintings he couldn’t recall painting.

Instead of responding to Jack’s words, Aster reached down towards the carvings, hand stopping just short of picking up the one he had seen Jack put down from the doorway. “May I?” he asked quietly, glancing over at Jack for the response.

A shrug. Probably the closest thing to the affirmative he’d get. Aster gently picked up the carving and held it up into the light to examine. It was a little girl, probably around the same age as that group of kids from Burgess that had helped them defeat Pitch Black. She was in colonial dress, hands together and holding a flower in front of her gown. It was the level of detail Jack had etched into the face, however, that drew Aster in. The carving looked almost like a real person turned to wood. Placing the carving down, he began to pick each of the others up in turn, and discovered the same level of astounding detail on each. Two little boys, a boy and a girl that both looked about Jack’s age, a stern looking man with a warm smile…

“They’re beautiful,” Aster commented, glancing over at Jack in time to see the kid look away in embarrassment, “Who are they?”

Jack’s eyes immediately shot back around to Aster, “What do you mean?” he asked, gaze wary.

Aster held the statuette in his hand up a bit higher to draw attention to it. “These people, who are they?”

Jack’s mouth opened as if to answer, but then closed again. His face scrunched up in concentration, as if he were struggling to find the answer to the question. Finally, he sighed and melted into the chair he was sitting in. “I’m not sure.”

Aster sucked in a breath, placing the wooden man back on the table with the others. He held that breath for a moment before releasing it and turning to face a tired-looking Jack. The boy’s eyes were downcast and listless, his mouth set in a frown. Aster probably should have shoved the issue to the side and distracted the kid, but his curiosity got the best of him. “Who do you think they are?”

Instead of answering immediately, Jack reached over and picked up the little girl statuette again, hold it up for Aster to look at. “This is- was my sister.” He said with certainty, as if that alone would answer everything. In a way, it did, and Aster’s face fell at the implication. They were likely all people from Jack’s past, from before he was Jack Frost. Jack didn’t seem to make the same connection, for although he was sure of the young girl’s identity, his eyes held no recognition when he looked at the others. He scrunched up his face again as he tried to think of who the others were, but Aster could tell it was a losing battle.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that Jack would never see his family again, never get the chance to say goodbye, or Jack not remembering his family at all.

Without realizing it, he allowed a hand to rest upon Jack’s shoulder. “Have you talked to Tooth about it yet?”

Jack, unsurprisingly for someone who had spent three hundred years alone, didn’t move away from the small bit of contact, instead leaning into it. “I don’t… I’m not sure I want to.”

Aster only barely held in his surprise, instead taking another breath and calmly asking, “Why is that?”

Jack sighed, putting the block and knife he held on the table and curling up in the chair. He didn’t answer, and Aster immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I- I didn’t-“

Jack cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine,” he said, a mournful smile on his lips, “curiosity isn’t a crime.”

Aster winced, remembering his reaction to Jack’s own curiosity only two months prior. He shouldn’t have shouted at him just for looking around the Warren, and yet he had. Jack had every right to send Aster away immediately. It was a wonder that he didn’t. “Still,” Aster began, ready to apologize for his forwardness, when Jack interrupted with words that left Aster frozen.

“I’m scared.”

Two words, and Jack had the pooka’s full attention. Jack’s mournful smile faded away, leaving behind a vulnerable young man to share with the most unlikely of confidants. Jack didn’t look Aster in the eye, instead curling in on himself and looking off towards the half-open door. “I’m scared,” he whispered, “that remembering will just hurt more. I- It already hurts so much just remembering my sister, and that’s just one person.”

Tears began to coalesce in the winter spirit’s eyes, left to fall ignored down his cheeks. Aster only barely resisted the urge to reach out and wrap himself around the boy, instead simply moving closer and placing his hand once more upon Jack’s shoulder. Jack glanced over at that momentarily, gratitude shimmering in his eyes, before speaking again. “I think I know why the Man in the Moon took my memories, now,” he said, “It hurts just remembering them. I don’t think I’d have been able to take it if I’d gone to my family and had my _existence_ just… _ignored_. Might be better if I just never remember at all.”

Aster sighed and stood up, drawing Jack’s attention. Surprised shouts followed when he lifted the winter spirit out of the chair and carried him over to the bed. Aster sat a confused Jack on the edge of the mattress, and then sat himself next to the young man, wrapping an arm around the spirit’s smaller frame. For a moment, Jack tried to push away, but then sighed and leaned into the half-hug.

“Jack,” Aster began after they had been situated, “Remembering what you used to have… it hurts. It will always hurt to think about the past and remember those you’ll never see again,” Aster took a breath, visions of his own long-gone friends and family- parents, brother, mate and kit- flashing across his vision. Composing himself once more, Aster tightened his hold on Jack, “But is it really better to not know what it was like at all? Is avoiding a bit of hurt really worth forgetting about the people you loved? The people that loved you?”

Jack remained silent for a moment, and then something in him seemed to break. Shoulders began to shake, and the single teardrops became rivulets flowing down his face. “Why,” Jack said, voice shaky and uneven, “would I want to remember something I can’t have anymore?”

At that Aster scoffed, cuffing Jack gently upside the head. “You still have people that love you, ya’ galah,” he said, pulling the spirit in even closer and hold out a hand in front of Jack’s face. “You’ve got me,” he stated, holding up a single digit, “and you’ve got Sandy, and Tooth, and North,” with each name another of Aster’s four digits was held up until his palm was open to the air. “And soon as they get back from whatever adventure they’ve been on, you’ll have Ombric, Kathrine, and Nightlight as well.” With each name a digit was curled back up, until only one finger remained straight. With this finger he pointed out the window, where the Moon, full and bright, looked in upon the two guardians.

“And I know he’s not the most social person in the universe, heavens know he has a hard enough time talking to us when there’s something important going on, but you've got MiM too. He doesn't show it very well, and has a few things to answer for, but he does care.”

As Aster spoke, Jack’s soundless crying began to ease. By the time the pooka’s speech had finished, Jack was no longer shaking, and the tears had stopped flowing. Jack stared up at Aster with reddened, awe-struck eyes. He swallowed audibly, then took a breath. “You mean it?” he asked, sounding breathless despite obviously having taken one.

Aster smiled, pulling the boy into a real, full hug. “I swear it,” he whispered, nuzzling the young man’s temple for good measure.

They remained there in relative silence for several minutes before Aster’s exhaustion finally caught up with him. Aster would later be grateful for his foresight in placing them on the bed, as it was there, wrapped protectively around Jack, that he finally passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a thing that's short and sweet. A Very Merry Unbirthday to you all.
> 
> Unless it's actually your birthday, in which case Happy Actual Birthday. :V


End file.
